


Paralyze

by DustToDust



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mentions of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22094476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: The human mind has dozens of ways to protect itself.
Relationships: Clifford Unger/Lisa Bridges
Kudos: 21





	Paralyze

**Author's Note:**

> Sad that there isn't a relationship tag for Lisa and Cliff already. 😥 Anyway, this is mostly me trying to wrap my head around certain things from the game.

There comes a point during a tragedy when the mind just shuts down --either during it or afterwards-- when the pain or horror becomes too much to deal with and it refuses to process any more. It just focuses in on one innocuous thing in a desperate attempt to protect itself. To simply make it through the other side. 

There’s a term for it. Hell, there’s probably entire books about it and the part it plays in human survival that would explain all the little hows and whys of it. Cliff’s mostly sure of that but he’d have to ask his therapist to be completely sure. A problem only because he's spent the better part of two years avoiding those appointments. It'd be a shame to ruin that streak now over something he knows enough about from experience. 

Cliff knows the feeling of this defense mechanism pretty well. He's been through it a few times in his life as a soldier. Once when the pain from a gut shot got too bad and the helo extraction was too far. He focused instead on the radiant colors of the rising sun above him letting the colors drain the pain away. Another time it was from a compound fracture of his femur exacerbated by a ride in a banged up humvee over a broken landscape. He fixated then on a thread hanging off John's arm as the man tried his best to hold him still, watching it float and jerk with each mile they rattled through instead of the searing pain in his leg or the sodden bandage that didn’t cover nearly enough. 

Cliff's seen it in others too. In his own men too many times to count as they finished off a mission, or even the civilians unlucky enough to be caught up in them. Their eyes going still and flat as they simply shut down,bodies still mostly on automatic as their mind stopped working. He’s guided more than a few of the former through it to the other side, and left a lot more of the latter in the dust behind because his team never got the easy missions that would allow it.

So he knows what’s happening when the doctor’s words lose all meaning and Cliff’s eyes drift down to where Lisa’s left foot is sticking out from under the white sheets folder over her lower half. Focusing on the way the red polish is chipping off of her big toe. Red, to match the dress she wore out to dinner last week with a hint of the lime green she'd painted over instead of removing. The pain in his face and his ribs begins to slip away along with the feeling of the too cold air in the room. It's tempting to let go entirely like he has before. To continue down that familiar path to numb apathy.

Tempting but not possible. He had his men around him before, the only family that mattered to watch his back and make the tough calls when he shut down. He doesn’t have them here though, giving up that safety net had been the price he paid when he retired. None of Lisa’s family are even on this side of the coast yet so Cliff has to be _here_ and _present_ for her.

Her and their child.

Cliff takes a deep breath and holds it until he can feel the sharp pained protests from the ribs he’d eventually let the nurses wrap. He pushes his mind to _focus_ and drags his eyes up to the doctor who still hasn't looked up from his clipboard. The man looks as tired as Cliff feels and it’s easy to see that he's stalling. Edging around worse news that still needs to be delivered and Cliff almost falters at what news could be worse than knowing the love of his life is braindead.

"What about the baby?" His voice is harsh and croaking. He hasn’t spoken beyond the bare minimum needed to report what happened to the police. To the EMTs, the nurses, the doctors. Lisa’s parents.

Doctors are professionals at what they do, and a large part of what they do is deliver bad news to people in bad times. The man --and Cliff should know his name but there’s been so much happening since the accident-- looks up for the first time. There's pity and a gentle weariness in those eyes and Cliff knows already what the answer is. What the man has been trying to give him time to prepare for with this second blow. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Unger, but I’m going to be honest with you. Your wife’s wounds are very severe and if she were further along there might be a chance of carrying to term, but,” the man bows his head solemnly. “There’s no easy way to say this, but we’re already seeing signs of miscarriage. The stress is likely going to be more than can be handled.”

The doctor slips into technical terms that are vague enough to be comforting to most but Cliff can't take any more. Lisa is gone. Their child, their baby-

Cliff sinks to his knees and pulls one cold hand to his lips and does his best to remember to breathe as he focuses on the hairline cracks in red nail polish.


End file.
